ANNE HODGES WHITE

Artifacts endure—objects suggesting an uncommon journey through a territory, objects as signposts along back roads known only to the traveler, objects as symbols of a child's query.

“Man does not have a choice between war and peace; the only choice is about the level of the warrior’s struggle.” Krishna to Arjuna, The Bhagavad Gita 1 Fixed Wings My father, too, spent his youth upside-down, pushing for a way out, probing for the way in. He learned his lazy-eights and barrel rolls, his inside loops and spirals from the barnstormers whose flying circus he joined at fifteen, preferring ticket-taking to algebra, wing-walking to Latin—his brand of breaking free

Due west and two hours along a bendy road from the elbow of Cape Lookout lies North Carolina’s tucked-under barrier island, Bogue Bank. The cottage faces south. Here, parents and grandparents grew up and grew old; from here, we cousins grew up and moved on; now our children and grandchildren make their own discoveries. Quint Buchholz “Ausflug” I remember when there were more square miles of beach, dune, sea oat, and water oak than cottages. When the one-lane oyster-shell road